On Being Apart II

Dinner is cooking.  Note to the galley: when the box says to dissolve the sauce powder in cold water, don't wait until it's near a boil or you get lumpy alfredo.  The lakes around Bariloche seem to be quite popular.  There are easily 100 people camping here but with the fantastic views you hardly notice them.  Besides, the people watching isn't bad -- I saw a kid with a three foot wide, 18 inch deep, cast iron pan strapped to the outside of his pack.  I don't have anything that big at home!  Besides, campfires aren't allowed here so I don't know what they used to heat it -- it would crush any normal camp stove.

Pardon me a quick break to eat dinner.  When the box says two portions, it'll probably do for one person if you add some veggies or meat to it.

I got a disturbing email from Joanna yesterday.  She said she was having a hard time "feeling connected."  I suppose it's easier for me.  I've got plenty of slow climbs during which I can daydream.  And I usually dream about her, or how I could rearrange my house so that she could stay over more often.  I've got times like right now when I sit at a lake, surrounded by 2500 and 3000 meter spires when I can look at her picture and miss her.  I didn't leave her anything.  I don't know if she even has a picture of me.

Email will get even more sporadic over the next two months as we head south and leave most of the population behind.  Guess I should call her when I get back down to Bariloche.

The sun has gone behind the peaks and the temperature has dropped considerably.  I'm starting to wonder if I'll have enough warm clothes down south.  I suppose I can dream of curling up with Jo whilst I freeze my ass off.

I miss her.

"Four more episodes of the X-Files before we're together in Peru," she says.  I wish I had a TV to count them with.